Best Dropout Poems
Not to be misled.
I have written about and with my husband in mind nine times for the world to see. I share my life in bits and pieces from as far back as I can remember including things that have never happened. Dreams have come to life on paper and words just spring into stories. I work with all kinds of patients, yes patients who share their lives with me and reasons why they do what they do.
My husband is everything to me and I am as much to him. Our story is told poem by poem or so I tried. Written for and about our actual lives is as follows:
1. Rescued
2. He Whispered
3. My Fantasy, My Husband
4. Together As One
5. Together We Laugh
6. Doc
7. My Husband
8. When I’m Gone
9. Friendship
My life has had its up’s and down’s, with the death of my baby girl now an angel above! My ex-husband taking my boys to Alaska, which to me was a world away. I being a high school dropout and having never worked had a long road ahead of me. I have never blamed anyone other than myself and have never spoken ill of any.
Yes, times of joy came my way but most were hard and depressing. My husband, yes I met the man of my dreams so fairy tales do come true. Has loved me in spite of all the up’s and downs! So when you see a writing that seems so sad and lonely or of one who is lost and alone; it is not me or my life! Thank you to all my friends who have cared about me and care enough to show their support. There have been times in my life that friends like you kept me going! God Bless You All.
Debbie Knapp
06/04/2013
Categories:
dropout, life,
Form:
Concrete
Sniper hid vapors
tend to always bullet strike
with stealth air carrier accuracy
Silent noxious assault
pierced the nostrils
with oxy painful inhalation,
of the non-ventilated third degree
Deadly gaseous arrows
hit the overcrowded banquet room target;
and killed a-many healthy appetites,
with an alarming,
depressed tongue rate-of-mortality
Hurried footsteps exiting
is all the flatulent evidence I would need
to likewise proceed ... very quickly
Some intestinal terrorist
was dropping
lite ranch dressing bowel bombs,
most heavily
And the near-suicidal rush to escape
has gag damaged many throats,
most indiscriminately
I don’t cruelly mean to turbo fan
butt-of-joke rumors
with word-of-mouth rapidity
But ... it really was
a silent butt deadly graduation affair
And I say this,
with the utmost, stiff upper-lip respect:
Scented air peace
from an anonymous tip identity
This upwardly mobile yuppie —
Troll emoji catphish-ing bottom feeder
harbors no low-brow,
high school dropout insensitivity
Categories:
dropout, fun, humorous, satire, word
Form:
Light Verse
I hate society, I hate society
I hate society for a lot of REASON
Am in a society where society has no VISION
They only have a trend and if you don’t follow that trend
Then You Are MISSING
And it’s a CONTRADICTION
I hate society but this same society I am LIVING
So when ever am around people in the society I don’t feel like BREATHING
Cus when I do, I will probably have all the trash in me due to the process of INHALING
I know by now you want to ask
What is this trash that society has?
But before I continue
Let me define society
“It is the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered COMMUNITY”
Which one may say, society is suppose to bring about UNITY
But what do we see?
Society looking down on TEENAGE PARENTS and SCHOOL DROPOUTS
This same society campaigning and preaching against Abortion
Voicing out loud, ABORTION KILLS!!!!!
What if that teenage girl took some ABORTION PILLS?
Will society get the chance to criticize her for her mistake?
NO!
Am not saying that abortion is good but society aint acting cool
Now back to the school dropout
Have you ever bothered to ask that young boy what drop him out of SCHOOL?
NO!
But why do you jump into conclusion by calling him a FOOL
What if that boy did what you did as a kid but never got caught?
Society is throwing dust into our eyes but expecting us to see CLEAR
We all have DREAMS,VISION and INTUITION
But we can get to our target due to society LIMITATION
And they say!
You are no body if you don’t complete a higher INSTITUTION
Society puts you on a Mission but don’t care about your FINISH
Society is the blame but the people is the majority of it
Where adults are COLD so the kids cant be BOLD
They mask their words so the truth is UNTOLD
I think society is the reason our forefathers got SOLD
But lets put that aside
Why can’t someone be different?
Why can’t someone be themselves without been mocked at or look down on
Society is a MASKBALL
Society is a Maskball, where we hide our real character and reveals it by hiding
But all I came to tell you is
Don’t let society be on your WAY
But rather be on society’s WAY
Cus’ after all it doesn’t depend on society
It depends on YOU
But until then, I HATE SOCIETY!!!!
Categories:
dropout, sympathy,
Form:
Ballad
There was a grade-school dropout named Truperter
Whose neighbors in his town said couldn’t be stupidter.
He said the earth was flat,
Dinosaurs were due back.
And he swore Donald Trump has a condo on Jupiter.
Categories:
dropout, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Way back then you would play the dress up game
With boots and braces tried to look the same
Knew all the symbols, slogans and banners
False bravado of explicit grammar
Without knowledge or pride in our race
Knew nothing of our past or history's place
chorus
All you know is blind hate without a thought
Facts, pride and history you never once sought
Hate our enemies and you don't know why
A Hollywood Nazi, now wave goodbye
Your fueled hatred has finally burned out
Now a dropout, anti racist you shout
Destined to join the vagrant parade
Now dancing on the puppets masters blade
telling stories of what we're supposed to be
but boy you don't represent me
chorus
Never the one for an independent mind
your just clueless leading the unseeing blind
pseudo crusader of false dichotomy
new nothing of cultural anthropology
now let me clear up any misconceptions
not hate, but pride, history, race our redemption
chorus(2)
Categories:
dropout, betrayal,
Form:
Lyric
“POETIC JUSTICE” (VIRTUE OVER VICE)
Virtue over vice—who will pay the price
Ironic twists of fate are flawed if virtue does not equal reward
Logic needs to triumph—to beat and defeat
The tragedy of treachery that strives to cheat and repeat
Try to see outside myself and understand the eyes
To analyze, theorize, recognize and polarize
Excuse all the highs that terrorize
Unacknowledged trauma’s are like wounds that never heal
Never feel—on a constant wheel—a terrible price to pay for sin
Until at last the outside matches the justice
History written on the body—a canvas of poetry
In the end, reality, the price to pay would be too great
Too much at stake
Comfort zones obliterated, confusion reiterated
What then… the end?
Life seems slow to reach conclusion
To wait, turn back, to stop or go
To fly or dive when there is no restraint or self control
Deceit makes it hard to separate the self
Seeking truth above the easy way out
To shout, express doubt, to dropout--- burnout
Justice is tested through another’s eyes
Disguising their own lies as they spy and deny
The poetry of playing the same game
Camouflaged by another name—to shame blame and disclaim
Does virtue win the day?
Or vice have its say and inevitably stay
Does it triumph and receive reward?
Or is logic a masquerading fraud
The poetry in justice must ultimately distrust and adjust this
Lift the darkness
Make it painless, nameless and stainless
The punishment… its sword
Categories:
dropout, metaphor, poetry,
Form:
Prose Poetry
There was a fussy old toad, yes; some might call him, a curmudgeon, at soul.
When his ladylove died, he took it in stride, and sought someone else to pester.
Eventually, he came to our lake, and jumped on the Troll Bridge, quite blazon.
Trouble in his eyes, he met the trolls, eye for eye, and with strength, blustered.
“I’m King of the Hill”, he spat out, ignoring the clubs and frowns… all about.
Grandpa Troll looked at the toad, and got ready to do battle, quickly…at that.
I chimed in, “They’re renters my dear. You’ll have to fight me, it’s clear. So dropout.”
“And I’m too worn out, for a silly old toad, who jumps like a gnat, now, scat.”
“I’ll have this bridge”, he said, “I’ll fight you anywhere, so be very, greatly, prepared.”
“I’m worn-out”, I said, “But battle we will. I’ll win! So look where you tread, instead.”
I said,“You challenged me first, so I’ll pick the test, you’ll play Grandpa Troll at Chess”.
Amazement filled the toads eyes, but to my surprise, he took the bait. Rather smart.
Now Grandpa Troll is a whittler. “I’ll commission your own home bridge, if he loses.”
“At the end of the lake, you’ll have a home place. If you lose, you’ll learn to whittle!”
The old toad looked me over, and with a frown, then ask, “What good is whittling?”
“You could make a chess board like no other, Toads verses Trolls, in war forever!”
He agreed that was quite a stake! And knew he couldn’t lose, the old reprobate!
Still he haggled, to strike a better bargain, and he Hee Hawed around for more.
Now, Grandpa Troll had never lost a game. Still we upped the ante, just the same.
“If you lose, I’ll build you a home bridge… if you teach the youngun’s, chess, instead.”
Now, he was sold! So off they did go, playing chess and whittling, by the seasons.
You know, I’m trying to be a writer, but the interruptions seem to always get harder!
So as you can see… With situations and things such as these …
I’ll just have to keep trying harder, and harder…
Categories:
dropout, adventure, funny, imagination, uplifting,
Form:
Light Verse
Achievement, 1 of 2
—Time to share—
I grew up in a slum where the gang members,
at the risk of their lives, fight over their turf.
My lullaby was red and blue warning lights
flickering from dashing squared cars and ambulances,
and my bedtime story was the blow of sirens passing through
the streets and alleys between boarded up abandoned houses
standing in rows here and there.
My mother, though loved me dearly,
happened to be a high school dropout
and single who brought this world to me at her teens.
She was a minimum wage earner, therefore, her life was
nothing but struggles, kept body and soul together in misery
between laid off to employed to laid off, between paycheck to welfare
to paycheck that is thinner than a sheet of paper.
Although under educated, she was a pious woman,
and that is why her keen desire was not her son to follow
the steps of her mistake and suffer like his mother.
Her wish was to raise her only child to be a decent citizen
with a noble profession and thereby add some value to the community,
return some good things to the society.
Apart from mother’s great expectation, however,
I was a disobedient rogue child, a kind of problem kid
on the block when I was a lad. I got into bad company
and led astray by them, was irregular in attendance to a school
and cut classes whenever I felt like.
Until one day I learned of my mother’s tragic death
on the way back home from her work,
she was struck by a stray bullet
in the midst of gang members cross fire.
Categories:
dropout, anger, black african american,
Form:
Epic
Memories
become sand full of hourglasses.
One thousand snowflakes are one thousand dead cats in the Hudson River.
Memories hurt.
They are Michael Schofield broken out of prison.
Prison is the look on your father’s face.
We had the same face. I used to remember him being younger.
Once he was James Dean going bald and with a cause.
Now he is the weeping willow pretending to be a Christmas tree.
Trees are ebony towers to admire. They take the place of hands, and lips and voices. Sometimes they can speak but only when you aren’t listening.
I hear ghosts I met a long time ago. Their voices mix like bad wine.
They have a lot to say to somebody else.
Words
were daggers but became backfiring nunchucks.
Painting mosaics is more like scribbling outside the lines.
A car with no brakes and no gas.
An automatic pistol being fired by your shadow, armed with toothpaste ammunition. Nothing adds up because math can’t help.
Lithium is the iron curtain to save the free world.
Conversations are only permitted in dolphinese in the broken dunk tank.
Words twist like ivy at Wrigley Field and taste like blood if you impede upon traffic.
Fifty two card pick up and “will you marry me” mean the same thing.
She had no words for either of me, even if I remembered.
Mirrors
are grown in fields on the dark side of the moon.
They are sold to the vain but crawl into the vein.
They shout at jet takeoff volumes.
We use them as search engines even though they don’t have Wi-Fi.
They are the jealous, condescending friend we have to put up with.
A high school dropout who prefers to lean on a wall and do nothing.
Mirrors were made to be smashed. They deserve to go to hell but never do.
They join their cousins the broken beer bottles from West End in a cozy hole
where they can make out with nuclear sludge and give birth to North Korea.
Then they can go on vacation to the beach where they grew up
and create memories that disappear.
He told me who I was and wasn’t without speaking but he was wrong.
Now he won’t look at me and neither will she.
Two-dimensionalism is bliss.
Categories:
dropout, confusion, introspection, words, me,
Form:
Free verse
Here's my public resume
For all the world to see
But first, I'll introduce myself,
My name is Ashley
I'm an art school dropout,
I don't have a degree;
But I'm a diligent hard-worker
Try not to judge me
I attended Columbia College,
As well as SAIC;
Oh yeah, plus St. Xavier
And Roosevelt University
I transferred schools a bit
Excuse my curiosity,
I pray my indecision
Won't impact my credibility
I was once a journalism major
I can write about anything
My other interests include fashion,
I can also dance and sing
Feel free to get in contact
For business inquiries
I hope this impressed you,
I would love if you hired me ;)
Categories:
dropout, business, career, confidence, cool,
Form:
Rhyme
Cold heart nothing matters,
Bad choices, spiraling faster
Numb the pain, nothing matters,
This is her; the walking disaster
Flashing lights, cop cars
This time she’s gone too far
Nothing matters, because no one cares
Mother’s shooting up, Daddy isn’t there.
One more tattoo, one more scar
Distracts them all from the cuts on her heart.
She’s seen the fights, dealt the drugs
Dollar for dollar, spare the love.
A dropout she is, criminal she will become
Carrying a wicked mouth, and her daddy’s loaded gun.
Life is never easy when you’re digging for gold.
But it’s too late now; to the devil her soul is sold.
One day she’ll regret this path, wonder ‘what if..’
But she’ll wonder it from a cell bed, cold and stiff.
What if that teacher in jr. high, had asked about that cut above her eye.
Or what if in grade eleven they told her not to drop out; instead asked why.
Maybe then her story wouldn’t have been over so fast,
she might even hold that master’s degree at last.
She’d be a lawyer, doctor, something more
Something better than the woman crying silently on the prison floor.
Categories:
dropout, addiction, anger, black african
Form:
Rhyme
Set free the caged dreams and ambitions,
let it swing freely alongside with inspiration into the freeborn kingdom of stardom.
But this is frighteningly difficult,
because the free will that freely stimulates the free world of the freethinker, rich, poor, arrogant and elephant minded humans, has out-weighted the stimulus of human free ideology, to freely understand, conceive knowledge, and regulate in times of freezing stress.
This has freely transformed most humans into free-floating educated duckling, living as freelance hustlers, in an untitled free world,
Where the wise:
freely fish less, but catch more,
freely hustle less, but gather more,
freely talk less, but solve more,
freely take less, but give more,
freely run less, but arrival fast
While the fool:
freely eat with the longest spoon, but still stave of starvation,
freely move with the wisest idea, but still sink,
freely hustle more, but tumble fast,
freely run and act fast, but shun fast,
freely have the most stardom, but still lack absolute freedom.
Freeing Freedom,
Is freely achieved, by nesting patiences, control, and not aggressively wrestling life;
But by having the tendency to bullying struggle, and make it dropout of college.
Freeing freedom,
Is freely achieved, by adding more strength in developing intellectual power, free-living, and free acceptance of who you really are, rather than that of rage and free falling into discontent aggression.
Freeing freedom,
Is freely achieved, by forever caging doubt, and letting inspiration free-for-all like free vote, and also letting love run innocently barefooted into the gates of Bill Gates brain, to reap inspirational freedom.
Categories:
dropout, passioninspirational, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Nyanga
The murder capital
Divine space for criminals
A place where Jesus sleeps
And Satan recruits
Churches are lifeless
While taverns flourish
Drug lords are praised
Young girls get raped
And fatherless babies are raised
Thugs hip and hop to siren sounds
While police chase shadows at night
Gastric juices breakdown positive thought
And poverty steals dreams
Brain self-destruct
Gory thoughts construct
And Gun powder rapidly spreads
While the light at the end of the tunnel slowly disappears
Government croons a still tune
In numbers learners dropout of school
Back yard dwellers homes exist in their dreams
Because Urbanisation vehicle brings merciless thieves from the East......,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Categories:
dropout, africa, body,
Form:
Rhyme
Again
on the highway
reading bumper stickers
this morning
"life is a beach,
You know what I mean"
"got Jesus,got milk?
buy one,get one free"
"got virgins?go to Virginia"
"dropout and proud"
"my dog is smarter
then your student
of the month"
"bad boys rock,
bad girls rock and roll"
"lady,your middle finger stinks"
"retired,no boss,no bills"
"back up with your bad breath,
you freak"
"hotties for Obama,
rich for Mitt"
"Jesus saved me
from reality TV"
"shame,
gas costs more then beer"
"Wanna go green?
buy a green suit"
"free speech?
go learn english first"
that's all for today
now i'm off the exit...
Categories:
dropout, parody,
Form:
Free verse
Situation #1
Having it hard your whole life
didn’t know if u were gone last one
Sleepless night
Life
Deceit
Your dads gone away
Your mothers doing her best
Tryna survive life’s everlasting test
U say u cant take it
Its 2 hard
Ur giving up 2 easy
Everything isn’t always gonna b ur way
So u decide 2 dropout of high school
And try 2 do your own thing
Pull your own strings
But we all know the REAL reason y u
Dropping out
Cuz that boy in geometry class studied
Your biology and flipped your purity inside out
And now your knocked up
And confused
Clueless
Don’t know what 2 do
Now wishing
If only u wud have
Listened
2 those things mama used 2 say
Hm, at 16 u just threw your life away
Now your going out of your mind
All the answers to your questions u need 2 find………..
Lets move on to lemon lime
She’s so bright and stands out all
The time
I mean she’s so fine
All the guys have tasted her forbidden fruit
Yup she’s a tough cookie
Like mark from reading rainbow
But in roots
But Mrs. Lemon lime shud slow down sometime
Try telling her that and see does she answer that
Ha naw all she does is swish her hips and flip her hair back
Lemon lime thought she was dah queen
So did dah guys
Cuz,well u know what I mean
Suddenly lemon lime started to rot
Her parade went down
She started aching nonstop[
Something was wrong
She wasn’t blind
She just didn’t wanna see
All these guys that called her queen
Well one of them gave her HIV
Wow now what is this high school cheerleader gnna do
Idk
But there’s a moral to both of these stories
Don’t b so easy and anxious to give up your glory
This poem is for black girls who
Continue 2
Follow the educational rhythms in their own drums
Categories:
dropout, black african american, faith,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme